Letters to Christopher

Prologue
It’s only a bookmark, one of dozens that I have lodged within the pages of my books. Yet every time I hold this particular bookmark, I pause and am transported to my earliest family remembrances. Yes, it’s only a bookmark—a very old one—but this one is special and raises unanswered questions.
The printed message reads, “A good book is good company.”
The bottom of this slender piece of cardboard reads, “A souvenir of Key West, Fla.”
On the reverse side, written in ink, it says:
Jan. 29, 1957
Mr. Albert Stone
N. Ft. Myers, Fla.

Mr. Albert Stone—that’s my mother’s father, the one all of us grandchildren called Granddaddy Stone. A hard worker all his life, he barely made enough to provide for his wife and four children. He did assembly line work in a blanket factory, with forty years’ service before retiring. My cousins and I were not well acquainted with this man even though he was fully committed to his family. We do know his lifestyle was characterized by routine. All of us still refer to shredded wheat as granddaddy cereal because that was what he had for breakfast every day of the week.
I never pictured Granddaddy as an avid reader or lover of books. My hunch is that in January 1957, having retired two years earlier, he and Grandma Stone had moved from Ohio to Florida and were on a sightseeing trip to Key West. Apparently he wanted an inexpensive souvenir that has now been handed down through the family.
When I see this memorable bookmark in one of my current reading books, I wonder about his personal story. Where was Granddaddy born? Who were his parents? How did he and his wife of sixty-five years meet? Did he have any hobbies or serve in the military? What’s his favorite food? What was his life like in the early part of the twentieth century? How did he happen to become a Christian? What words of wisdom would he have wanted to pass on to his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren?
Now, a couple of generations later, all twelve of my grandchildren call me Granddaddy, and they are teaching their children to address me with that truly honorable title. Yet they really do not know who I am inside—my personal struggles, my family background, my work and educational experiences. They don’t know how I met my wife, Mary Lou, whom they affectionately called Nana. They might be surprised at some of the marriage values we cultivated that kept us loving each other for fifty-eight years. Every family goes through tragedy, disappointment, and failure. I wonder how my grandchildren will handle their setbacks in life as well as their successes, and whether they could gain anything by knowing something of mine. I was baptized in the Roman Catholic Church as an infant, but I retired at age sixty-five after many years of service in the United Methodist ministry. They don’t know how all that came about. The questions raised are almost endless.

Letters to Christopher is the title I chose as a vehicle to convey my comings and goings through the years. Christopher, my first great grandchild’s name, actually represents all of my children and grandchildren, those living and those yet to be born. My creative imagination pictures younger family members becoming genuinely curious and interested enough to shake our family tree and see what might fall out. Also, those who read this book might want to consider bringing their spiritual journey into focus through the lens of their own family stories. Letters to Christopher could serve as a springboard for telling, sharing, and preserving your family’s history. Ponder this invitation from noted author David Baldacci.
Once we reach adulthood, most of us assume we know all there is to know about our parents and other family members. However, if you take the time to ask questions and actually listen to the answers, you may find there is still much to learn about people close to you. Oral histories are a dying art, which is sad indeed for they show appropriate respect for the lives and experiences of those who have come before. And, just as important, they document those remembrances, for once those lives are over, that personal knowledge is lost forever. Unfortunately, we live in a time now where everyone seems to be solely looking ahead, as though we deem nothing in the past worthy of our attention. The future is always fresh and exciting, and it has a pull on us that times past simply can never muster. Yet it may well be that our greater wealth as human beings can be discovered by simply looking behind us.1
Conversation and storytelling guides are included in the appendices for family gatherings, for small group sharing, and for personal reflections. Because a good book is good company, I hope all who read about my legacy bookmark find themselves in good company.
James K. Wagner